Behind Our Four Walls
by tutncleo
Summary: Tony and Gibbs have a bad day at work. Part Four in the "Home Is..." Series. Tony/Gibbs pairing.


**Behind Our Four Walls**

"_**Home is any four walls that enclose the right person."**_ **Helen Rowland**

Gibbs lay in bed, not paying that much attention to Tony, as he tossed and turned, just glad to be home with someone he loved lying next to him. It had been one of those days when he questioned why he was still on the job. They had gotten the call late in the morning. Shots were being fired in the officer's housing complex at Bethesda. When they got there, they saw a crowd of people out on the sidewalk, in front of one of the duplexes, all staring with mouths gaping and bodies tense. Screams and shouts could be heard coming from within.

Upon seeing them, their reason for being there emblazoned in big white letters that spelled out NCIS on their jackets, a young blonde haired woman had rushed towards them, clutching a cell phone, tears streaming down her face. "They've been fighting for over an hour, but I heard gunshots about twenty-five minutes ago. I live next door. That's why I called you. Their children are inside there with them," she'd cried, one step short of full hysteria.

"Who lives here ma'am?" Gibbs had asked, deliberately making his voice as soothing as possible. "Can you tell me what the fight seems to be about?"

"John and Amy - the Larsons, and their two kids, Stacy and Josh," she'd choked out, around the sobs. "I don't know what the fight today is about, but they've been having problems for awhile. I know she'd asked him for a divorce a few days ago. Amy told me she'd fallen out of love with John. That he was getting old and bald, and just didn't do it for her anymore," she shook her head in disbelief, whether it was over what Mrs. Larson had said and done, or the situation, Gibbs didn't know. "You've got to get those kids out," she implored.

"Try to calm down. We're sure going to try," he'd said. "Can you tell who was shooting?" he asked.

"John. It was John. Before I came outside I heard him scream that he was going to make it so she could never leave him. I heard her scream at him to put the gun away, and that was when I got really scared and came outside."

He had then turned to Tony, who was standing beside him. "Go get the bullhorn," he told his senior agent.

"Already sent McGee for it, Boss. He should be back any second. What's the plan?" Tony had asked. His shoulders were tense and his eyes alert. They all hated domestic calls; there never seemed to be a satisfying conclusion to any of them.

"I'm going to try and talk to him first. I don't want shots fired randomly when there are kids in there," Gibbs had answered. McGee had arrived back while they were talking, and Gibbs had reached out for the bullhorn. After that, time seemed to alter, sometimes dragging by in slow motion, and at others, moving so fast events blurred, making it hard to take in the details.

He'd called out to John Larson, and had established communication. Eventually he had been able to get Larson to use the phone to talk to him, making him glad the conversation was no longer audible to everyone standing outside the home. Two hours later, Larson had unexpectedly agreed to let Gibbs and his team into the house. If he had really thought about it, he would have realized that something was off, but he had been focused on his desire to get the wife and children out safely. By this time, there were more than a dozen NCIS agents at the house. Gibbs had silently signaled that they should surround all entrances, and then he, Tony and McGee had approached the house. Larson, wild eyed and unkempt, met them at the front door, his arm around a woman, who Gibbs assumed was Amy Larson, a gun pressed against her head. Larson had stood back to let them in, and then used his foot to slam the door behind them. Larson had told them he wanted witnesses to hear the lies his wife was saying about him, and ordered Amy Larson to tell them what she had said, but the poor woman, who was sobbing uncontrollably, couldn't speak. Things went downhill from there rather rapidly. Larson had screamed at his wife again, and then, before the team knew what was happening, Larson had shot his wife in the head, and turned the gun on himself. The gunshots had caused the other agents to charge the doors, and soon the house was crawling with NCIS personnel. John and Amy were declared dead on the scene, but the worst part of the day had been the discovery of the two children in the bathroom, both dead from single gun shots to the head.

When the team had gotten back to headquarters later in the afternoon, Tony and Gibbs had to shower and change, both of them having been sprayed by blood when Larson had pulled the trigger on his wife, their bodies having served as human shields for McGee. The rest of the day had been spent in silence, as the team prepared their reports. There wasn't much left to say, after all, and none of them felt like talking. By five, Gibbs had reviewed the reports, and announced they were done for the day, unable to hide the relief that slipped into his voice. Once released, McGee had rushed to the stairs, probably on his way down to see Abby, Gibbs had thought, glad Tim had someone to seek solace in. He and Tony had gathered up their belongings and headed to the elevator, both eager to leave the day behind.

Once they got into the elevator, Tony's whole demeanor had changed. Instead of the grim faced, silent agent he had looked at all afternoon, before him stood an animated Tony, an overly wide smile plastered on his face, babbling away about how hungry he was, and where they should go for dinner. Tony talked all the way out to the car, and all the way to the restaurant, his words accompanied by grand gestures and the constant bouncing of his right leg. Gibbs knew that this manic, forced jocularity was just another one of Tony's coping mechanisms, and since he could barely wait to get home to his boat so that he could sand away the memories of the day, and then bury himself in the warmth and comfort of Tony's body, he didn't feel he could call the younger man on his chosen method for dealing with today's events. Besides, he knew that his participation in the conversation wasn't needed or expected. Tony would jump from one monologue to another, until he wore himself out.

They both ate a dinner neither one really tasted, and then headed home. Gibbs sighed in relief as he walked through the front door. It was good to be home. He headed straight for the basement, Tony on his heels. Once down there, he had pulled out his bottle of bourbon, and the two glasses he now kept in the drawer. He poured them each a healthy portion, which they both tipped back and swallowed in one shot. After refilling the glasses, and stashing the bottle on the counter, he picked up his sanding block, needing to start the healing process. Tony had settled himself in his chair and was rocking violently, as he regaled Gibbs with a recount of his cousin Petey's seventh birthday party. 'He must be pretty desperate for topics if he's resorted to his family,' Gibbs thought, but said nothing, as he pressed the sanding block to the side of his boat, eager to get caught up by the rhythm of the repetitive motions which never failed to soothe him.

Gibbs wasn't sure how much time had passed when his arms finally gave out on him. As he lifted the sanding block from the wood, he became aware of the fact that the basement was now silent. Looking over at the chair, he had seen Tony, his head slumped against the back of the chair, sound asleep. Feeling calmer than he had in hours, he walked over to Tony, and gently shook his shoulder. "Hey Tony, wake up. Let's go up to bed. You'll be so stiff you can't walk in the morning if you stay down here."

"I'm awake, was just meditating," Tony had slurred, as he opened his eyes and stretched. Gibbs watched him, enjoying the play of muscle as Tony's arms reached up, and his back arched. When Tony stood, Gibbs impulsively reached over and pulled him close, kissing him gently. Tony pulled his head back far enough to see Gibbs' face, and asked, "What was that for?"

"For being you," Gibbs said, and kissed the tip of Tony's nose, then spun him around and pushed him gently towards the stairs.

By the time they were in bed, Tony was fully awake again. Gibbs had stretched out on his back, his arms folded under his head, thinking, as Tony turned and squirmed, trying to find a position that suited him. Finally, laying half on top of Gibbs, he stilled.

"Today was pretty pathetic," Tony said.

Gibbs had been waiting all night for Tony to worm his way around to the topic that was really on his mind. "Yeah, it was," he said, not so much as to agree, but to let Tony know that he was paying attention.

"God, those kids," he'd breathed. "I don't understand how you could kill your own kids. And the wife, that was so screwed up," Tony paused as he slid his arm further around Gibbs' chest. "You want a divorce because your husband is getting old? How messed up is that?"

Gibbs just said, "Yeah," again, waiting to see what else Tony would say. Tony was silent for a long time, and Gibbs began to think the subject had been dropped.

"So, would you still love me if I went bald?" Tony asked finally, his voice light and teasing, but Gibbs knew better.

"I'd love you if you were old, bald, and covered in wrinkles, Tony. It's you I love, not what how you look," Gibbs said, pulling Tony in tighter.

"So I can quit going to the gym?" Tony asked cheekily.

Laughing, Gibbs flipped them over, so that he was lying on top of Tony. "Only if you don't mind if I do, too." he said, then he proceeded to show Tony just how much he loved him.


End file.
